


Chosen

by AlekWalker



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Gen, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:41:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26120578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlekWalker/pseuds/AlekWalker
Summary: At ten years of age Din Djarin get's his soulmark. He doesn't understand what is happening until his adopted parents explain what is going on.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	Chosen

**Author's Note:**

> **A/n:** This is my first attempt at writing fanfic for The Mandalorian. I got it in my head that fate, the force, the deceased Mandalorians or all of the above occasionally chose soulmates for people. What came about was this piece involving a ten year old Din receiving his soulmark and being just a bit stubborn about it to begin with.
> 
> I am still thinking of continuing this but my muses have been all over the shop in regards to Din’s chosen soulmates background. So I whipped up a poll to get opinions and suggestions for his leading female character. It can be found [here](https://forms.gle/s66833vT9YmSbGzaA).

Din had just finished training with his fellow foundlings for the day and was heading home, his training weapons were stowed away in an old rucksack of his adopted father’s slung over his shoulder. He ambled quietly past the fields where clan members worked at the crops, younger children playing with each other and the occasional pet kath hound or manka cat joining in.

Starting the trek up the hill towards his home Din scratched idly beneath the leather vambrace on his right wrist, weird was he developing an allergy to something? He gripped the strap of his rucksack and hefted it higher onto his shoulder, the sooner he got home the sooner he could shed away his leather training armor and sweaty clothes.

As he neared the crest of the hill the itching at his wrist started to change, growing gradually from an annoying itch to a slight burning sensation. Maybe he needed to find his mother after he cleaned up and have her check it. His gaze instinctively roamed his surroundings as he approached his home, as he stepped through the gate he nodded politely to the female soldier who was just leaving holding the gate open for her out of respect.

The soldier paused in the gateway, her helmet tilting down and to the side to look at him before she nodded respectfully and continued on through the gate. Din stood just that little bit taller as he closed the gate, proud of the silent acknowledgement from the soldier and started towards the house.

He stopped at the door to stomp his boots on the step, knocking loose the caked drying mud and dust so that he didn’t trapse it into the house. Pushing the door open with his shoulder Din stepped into the house calling out “ _ Buir _ I’m home.”

“Get cleaned up Din, dinner will be ready soon.” His mother’s unmodulated voice called from the back of the house.

Din made his way to his small room, decorated only with a cot, a desk, chair and a chest of drawers and rail mounted on the wall for his clothes. He crossed to his desk and set his rucksack down beside it before leaning over to open the shutters of his window.

Dropping into his chair he set about unbuckling his left vambrace first, Din was about to set it onto his desk when the pain at his right wrist flared red hot, as though someone had just placed a piece of freshly forged beskar against his skin. To prevent himself from crying out in pain and showing weakness he stuffed the vambrace between his teeth and bit down into the leather, his hand tore at the fastenings of his remaining vambrace in a desperate effort to get it off.

With the buckles half unfastened, Din gritted his teeth into the leather as a fresh wave of burning pain ripped through his forearm causing him to pitch forward off the chair onto the padding covering the clay floor. His feet lashed out once sending his chair flying into the wall before he huddled into a ball clutching his right arm to his chest.

The sound of heavy footfalls rushing through the house echoed in his ears moments before his door flew open. His mother was first through the door, her armor nowhere in sight while his father’s larger frame filled the doorway moments later half his armor having been removed.

Despite his best efforts Din whimpered against the leather of his vambrace as his mother settled behind him and scooped him onto her lap, one hand instantly settling into soothing strokes of his hair. It was something she’d done many times, when he was plagued by nightmares of the attack on his homeworld that claimed his birth parents.

His father’s large hands reached towards his face, one grasping his chin as the other took hold of the leather wedged firmly between his teeth. A firm yet gentle squeeze against his chin was followed by the gruff command “Open.”

Din complied, his jaw unclenching from the leather enough for his father to ease it out from his mouth. The hand on his chin dropped to his shoulder and squeezed reassuringly as his father spoke “Good boy. Now, can you tell us what’s happening?”

Brown eyes flicked up trying to focus on his parents' faces, though his vision was clouded by unshed tears. When he finally managed to find his voice he hiccupped while holding his right arm up shakily “It burns, my wrist.”

Large hands curled around his shaking arm, the fingers moving to the clasps of his vambrace as his mother’s fingers drifted through his hair, her voice soft and reassuring as she inquired “What did you burn it on?”

“Nothing!” Din blurted out in a panicked cry, his head shaking as he continued “It started as an itch when I was leaving the training grounds, but now it feels like melted beskar searing my skin.”

The absolute last thing he wanted was his adoptive parents thinking he’d been somewhere he shouldn’t be, doing something he wasn’t supposed to. His head tilted back slightly to look up at his mother, before his eyes flicked to his father’s face just as he was removing the remaining vambrace from his arm.

“I swear on the Creed, my honor and my birth parents' graves I wasn’t doing anything.”

“Shh, we never said you were Din.” His mother murmured against his hair, holding him close as she tried to sooth him.

Feeling the brush of calloused fingers over the burning skin of his wrist Din hissed, his eyes squeezing shut briefly as his free hand clenched into the soft fabric of his father’s tunic. He focused on the gentle caress of his mother’s own calloused fingers through his scruffy hair, the steady beat of her heart against his back and the slow steady rhythm of her breaths.

Lulled by his mother’s presence, Din slipped easily into the meditative trance he usually struggled with, his erratic heartbeat and breathing slowly matching that of his mothers. His father’s voice broke the silence “Good boy, steady yourself.”

“What do you see  _ cyar’ika _ ?”

The hint of concern in his mother’s voice had Din’s eyes drifting open, blinking tiredly he looked between his parents. His mother’s brows were furrowed with concern, an almost matching expression on his father’s face for all but a moment before his eyebrows rose.

“I see something, words?” Was that surprise Din heard in his father’s voice? “ _ Cyar’ika _ , he has a soulmark forming.”

“Are you certain? Soulmarks are rare, when was the last time we had someone with a soulmark in the clan?”

Din was more than a little confused by the conversation going on above his head. Soulmarks? What were they exactly and was that an almost tone of reverence in his mother's voice? He tugged gently on his father’s tunic, waiting until their eyes met before asking “What’s going on  _ buir _ ?”

One of his mother’s hands came to rest on one side of his neck at the same time one of his father’s came to rest on the opposite side. It caught him off guard when they spoke in unison “You are special. You have been chosen, marked.”

“But what is it? Chosen for what?”

“Whom,” his mother chimed in suddenly making Din blink and look up at her quizzically.

His father clearly found something amusing in his expression if the sudden rumbling chuckle was anything to go by. A large hand ruffled his hair, causing Din to grumble under his breath which only increased his father’s amusement as his chuckle carried for a few moments longer.

“A soulmark is a very rare thing, my boy. The last time one was found within the clans was many years ago, in my grandfather’s youth if I recall.” There was a pause as his father thought before he carried on “The mark tells us that the  _ Manda _ have chosen you, or more specifically have chosen your soulmate. Your  _ cyare _ .”

There was reverence in his father’s tone, it was one he’d only ever heard when his father spoke of the Creed, weapons or the traditional beskar armor of the Mandalorian clans. His father was currently looking adoringly over his head at his mother whose voice suddenly floated down from above as she picked up the tale.

“The burning on your arm, it is your mark. It means your soulmate has been born, these will be the first words they speak to you. It allows you to identify each other.” His mother’s fingers brushed lightly across his wrist, the burning sensation though dulled is still there. “They will bear your first words to them in the opposite position, in this case the inside of their left wrist. If the tales are to be believed.”

“So you’re not sure about this?” Din asked quietly, his gaze flicking between both his parents as he considered their words.

“We are sure about the mark itself. It’s meaning and purpose, the location of their mark however not so much.” His father supplied. “As we said, they are rare.”

“And we are just to believe that the  _ Manda _ knows who is best for me?” Din challenged mulishly. “That they determine a baby, newly born to be that choice?”

“Din,” he felt his mother’s chin come to rest atop his head. “ _ Ad’ika _ . It is okay to be scared of something this big. You are still young.”

Tensing at the mention of being scared, Din tried to extricate himself from his parents' reassuring hold, not that he managed to move more than an inch before his mother’s arms tightened around him and his father squeezed his forearm as he growled “I’m not scared, I’m a  _ verd _ !”

“Not yet  _ ad’ika _ ,” a large hand gripped the back of his neck as he was forced to meet his father’s gaze before he nodded and brought their foreheads together “But soon. You are doing well with your training and in a couple of years you will be of age to swear the Creed and take your place among the clan.”

From above him Din heard his mother hum in acknowledgement, he felt a swell of emotion in his chest at his father’s words. It nevertheless prompted him to ask quietly “You really think I’m doing well?”

“We do.” Came the simultaneous reply from above. “You will be a great asset to the clan.”

He couldn’t help the grin that formed on his face at their words. His gaze dropped to his wrist as it occurred to him that he was no longer feeling any pain, it took a moment for him to notice the words scrawled delicately on his inner wrist.  _ Are you my warrior? _

“This is the way.” Din murmured, disentangling his hand from his father’s tunic to lightly trace the words.

The look his parents shared above him was missed by Din, but he heard their voices echo his words. “This is the way.”

**Author's Note:**

>  **Translations**  
>  ** _Buir_** \- Mother/Father  
>  ** _Cyar’ika_** \- Darling, Sweetheart  
>  ** _Cyare_** \- Beloved  
>  ** _Manda_** \- Mandalorian Religious Concept  
>  ** _Ad’ika_** \- Little One, Son/Daughter of any age  
>  ** _Verd_** \- Soldier, Warrior


End file.
